Blame it on the Boss-a-nova
IT WAS A hot summer's day, (though in Chennai, everyday is hot and it's always summer) and I toddled up to an amusement park. There they had an African-Experience tent, outside which there was this long serpentine queue of young folks, waiting patiently to get in. I got rather curious and walked up to one of them and asked them what was so interesting inside. `Dontcha know? They teach the Basic Principles of Voodoo, in 30 minutes'. I was shell-shocked! Voodoo? In this day and age? But why, I asked. The guy looked at me strangely and asked me a very fundamental question. `Do you work?' `No, never tried.' I replied. `Aha! No wonder! If you did and your boss was anything like mine, you'd join the queue too!'.
Is this really true? I thought as I meandered thoughtfully to the riverside. (Of course, `river' in Chennai is a misnomer, call it riverbed side). And whom did I see there but Hoary Honcho , the author of the famous book `Bosses for Dummies' or is it the other way around I'm never sure. Anyway, who better to explain this to me?
So, I went up to him and asked `HH, tell me, are bosses really bad people?' And HH said, `Well, you are asking me a very difficult question. For `Bosses' are supernatural phenomena. Though I have tried to explain them in my book, the truth is that even Freud, Mathrubootham and Night Shyamalan couldn't quite unravel the mystery. To give you an outline, let's look at the three classes in the genus `Bossis Culpabilis' - the first is the `Born-as-Boss' , the second is the `Customised-in-a-Cauldron- Boss' and finally, we have the `Don't-Thrust-Them-Boss'.
Born-as-Boss.
Yes, well, (began HH) as the name suggests these Bosses are born with the boardroom key in their mouths. No, not a manifestation of infantile epilepsy, but they get into the driver's seat straight out of college since the company is owned by daddy and his daddy before him. And they stay there. Forever. Should they live till doomsday, they'll stay boss a week longer than the rest of humanity. The rest of us put up a little calendar in our cabins, where we strike out the days, hugging ourselves with the delight of an approaching d-day. No, not the Boss's retirement; theirs. Because, don't forget, the boss doesn't. Ever. He is the ubiquitous energiser bunny... 'employees will come and go but such bosses creak on forever. And to the tuneful groans of harassed employees, work atrophies and production plummets.
Customised-in-a-Cauldron- Boss.
This type wasn't born one, he was `created'. Rather like test-tube thug. Only, there were no lab technicians, they were engineered by the three delightful ladies from Macbeth that flew in on their broomsticks for the occasion. These unshaven delights, concocted such bosses complete with eyes of newts and tongues of frogs, in the latest Mark IV copper-bottomed pressure cauldron. Some suicidal companies though regularly approach such specially talented experts to create one for them. Of course, seeing the great business opportunity, these queens of the cauldron call themselves placement agencies or, rather ominously, head-hunters.
This sort of boss creation worked well till recently. Then, there was some trouble in the production. The bosses were not meeting ISO and CMM standards. So, the witches decided to outsource. They terrorised a publisher into giving them a sneak-peek into the latest management guru's book and discovered the missing charm:
Dummy + Dummy = Big Dummy
Now with this new ingredient, the witches had everything they needed to get their assembly line working on all cylinders again! And customers went back thrilled with a pet boss that reminded hapless employees of jackboots, spurs and cats-`o-nine-tails.
`Don't-Thrust-Them-Boss'
This lot actually started off as employees in an organisation headed originally by a born boss. But then, there was a re-structuring within the set-up and panicked boards ordered a replacement from the witches. Possibly the only way a born boss could be dumped. And when the new guy came in, he decided to appoint a lot of under-bosses to boss over the leftovers. Which were those, employees still alive and weakly kicking. Sort of. So, he chooses carefully, and `elevates' some of the leftover employees into bosses. This became the classic method of how bosshood is thrust on some people. This usually calls for a celebration, and a little party is held and everyone cheers, as one of `them' is now a boss, and salvation is in sight, the sun is shining and all is well with the world! After which the newly invested boss goes home. The brats come and hug him; they dine wine and well, go to sleep. In the morning, the kids, all four of them get up and take one look at their progenitor and raise a banshee wail!
The eldest comes to senses first and says, `Daddy, why are your ears so big!' And the usually soft-spoken daddy, replies gruffly, `To eavesdrop on my juniors better!' Number two asks: `Daddy, but why are your eyes so large?' and he replies, `To keep an eye on all my underlings!' The third notices his daddy's equatorial expansion and says; `Daddy, why is your tummy so big?' And daddy growls: `So that I can have one subordinate for breakfast every morning'. `But how can you eat a human daddy?' squeaks the youngest. `With my big teeth' says daddy, baring his yellowing fangs! The kids faint while daddy leaves for work without his usual cornflakes `n' cold milk, not wanting to spoil his appetite.
Enough! Enough! I cried. For I had heard enough ... No wonder there's the serpentine queue at the voodoo stall; and no wonder the glazed expression in their eyes! NEVER in my worst nightmare will I contemplate taking up a job - not unless there ever is that elusive breed called the kindly boss, often dreamt of, but rarely seen and always hoped for.
APARNA KATHRIKAYAN
aa@cnkonline.com
Printer friendly
page
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Opportunities
